Dead Women Tell no Tales
by Spellshadow98
Summary: Trigger warning. Twisted love hurts when it unravels. While choking you with a cord it keeps everything in place. When it unravels, things fall apart and the heart is left to bleed till it's dry. Poetry of an OC about her life. OC is related to Sirius, but wishes to remain anonymous. Trigger warning.
1. Want

What does it feel like?

To have someone's lips press against yours?

To feel their skin and your skin connect?

I watch it happen. Watch other fall

And wonder when it will happen to me.

If ever.

* * *

No one said it hurt. No one said he'd go that far.

And no control.

Heat. Burning. Scorching.

My life in flames.

How do I reconstruct?

How long does it take for the burns to go?


	2. Deception

How could I feel? How could I know?

I didn't, I swear.

Stupid. I should have stopped.

But I am selfish.

I wanted him.

These are tears, crashing onto my cheek?

Ruining my mascara, my blush, my...

Foundation.

Angel. Love is a cruel game. Especially for a masochist.

And you, a sadist.

I should have known better then to play fire with fire.

I let you hurt me, let you...burn my insides.

Scorched was good. Showed you cared about me.

Angel?

Some say love is blind. No.

Love,

Love is pain.

And now that I'm rejected

I am free.

It hurts so much more...

So much more than loving blind,

Not knowing what you think.

And the tears,

Washing, washing, washing

My pain from me.

WHY!? Why does it hurt?

I still love you.

Still want to feel your hands

In any way I can.

My throat is healed. My throat spoke!

While my heart

Died.

Why so serious?

Serius.

Sirius.

He saved me. After I betrayed him.

Can I do nothing right?

I try to stop

It never works.

Sophia. I'm sorry.

Death follows my footsteps.

Cold. Merciless.

Just.

Why? I tried-

Tried to save them.

Dead. Dead. Dead!

Even when I try.

Perhaps...Perhaps I won't wake up.

Sleep for the weary-

Bread for the famished.

Please just let me

Sleep.

Give me Blackness.

Give me rest.

Sirius. Reg.

I am so sorry.

I love you.

Always.


	3. Sardony

An angel.

A guilty, tormented soul.

But to me, someone you didn't know except for a face,

Kind.

Years later we met again,

Your soul had been ripped out of you after a

Moment of happiness I could never give you even if I tried.

You burned my throat first.

Burned my hair.

Laughed.

At me.

But I still love you.

You're the only one I would let burn my hair.

You don't care. You never will.

Even if your soul returns,

You won't care.

Not like that.

I hope you have a happy life.


	4. Pride

Let me sleep

Let me rest.

A racing heart,

Trembling limbs,

They can't get up and clean today

Or tomorrow.

I can't live like this, I can hardly breathe now.

Alone. Hurting.

I will never ask for help.


	5. Accusation

I never meant to. Never meant for them to die. But they did. Bloody corpses cut into pieces, shredded by an unnamable monster from another world. Their eyes staring at me boldly, daring me to step in between IT and the others. I can't get them out of my head.

Glassy eyes, glassy eyes. Glaring. Silver and brown. Accusing me. I did nothing wrong! I watched. Was that my mistake? With his hand around my waist, feeling his ribs laugh, pressing against me. No, don't think about that. Never think about him. It's over. _Over._ Glassy eyes staring back. Glassy eyes dead. Dead. I have to tell her. Maybe she already knows. Is that better? What if she falls again? I can't do that to her. Silver and brown never to see again. Never see their children again. Never see Jane smiling, never see John anxious over a test.

Blood on the carpet, blood on the walls, broken mirrors. Two limbs here, two over there. Blood on the stairs and screaming—everywhere. GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD! Deadly angelic face laughing at them, laughing at her parents' last breaths. Last accusing glares at my direction. I didn't look at them. IT was kissing me. It wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault. Everyone has eyes. She has grey. John has brown. GET THEM OUT. They're in my head. She's in my head.


	6. Definition of

Cold.

Cruel.

Beauty is showing a mask instead the wreck inside.

Even if all there is is empty space.

Beauty is haughty when you have no height to sneer down your nose from.

Practice.

Patience.

Careful application with a brush or two of blush, a smear of crimson on lips, black on lashes.

Done.

A precise balance, perfectly painted mask between alluring and crumbling.

Mysterious. Inviting.

Dressed in red and black too tight to breathe.

Beauty is pain.


	7. Nothing

(TRIGGER WARNING)

* * *

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You Are Nothing

Hand,

Brest,

Pain.

Thrust,

Hurt,

Scream.


End file.
